


Lying in Bed at Three AM

by Unofficial_Doctor



Category: Legally Blonde (Movies), Legally Blonde - All Media Types, Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: F/M, General paranoia, How many pink things can i associate with elle, Intense thinking @3am, Just give my boy a hug plz, Nightmare, Panic, its small tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unofficial_Doctor/pseuds/Unofficial_Doctor
Summary: Emmett can't sleep.





	Lying in Bed at Three AM

_"T_ here's _no reason for me to stay." A sudden blow of pain stabs Emmett's heart, stopping it for a fraction of a second before it burst into the deep knawing pain of desperation. She retreats into her dorm, her eyes red and tears threatening to down her soft cheeks. Everything is cold, so unbearably cold as if the sun had vanished the moment she shut the door. The chill runs up and down his spine taunting his speechlessness. The words fill his chest and the pressure is unbearable and he'll burst if he doesn't speak. Then it slips out, oft and practically unnoticed except to the speaker. "What about love?" he whispers as if that explained how she always managed to make his breath falter and his heart stammer like a stumbling child. He waits hoping for someone on the other side to answer, waiting for her voice to break his heart again with the reason why she's leaving before he'd run to Vivian for help and then she'd stay. He hears nothing and his mind races in panic trying to rationalize because she couldn't have. He brings a shaking hand to the door knob, pulling back slightly realizing it was unlocked. Stepping in, he expects to see the overwhelming color of bright pink on the walls that would somehow calm his nerves, expects to see her wiping away tears to calm her own. He would hold her close and tell her she's worth so much more than what anyone thinks, more than what she thinks. The room is empty, stripped of all color and life. The cold twists and he stiffens._

_She's gone._

_He can't breathe_.

* * *

 

Emmett wakes with a start, taking short and harsh breaths as he stares at the ceiling. He almost panics again at the apparent lack of color but he soon realizes that it did, in fact, have color, a rather unflattering shade of being with lighter patches scattered around from a poorly applied coat, and he calms. He's in his own apartment, no longer trapped in the dorms like he thought. Comforting. There's a strange weight next to him, and when he looks he's mildly surprised to see Elle there, curled in and sleeping soundly with her back toward him. So a nightmare then. He is used to the occasional terror dream, though they were more so associated with normal nightmare things; unbearable embarrassments, natural disasters, death, normal nightmares. Though as of late, he's had more dreams centering around none other than Miss Elle Woods, which wasn't that surprising now that he thought about it.

The terrifying thing is that it was almost his reality. If Vivian had ignored him, if he nothing to prove that Elle deserved to stay, she would have been gone before he'd have the chance to say goodbye. She had stayed, of course; that explains why she's pressed against him instead of a plane seat on a flight back to Malibu. It was for herself, to prove to everyone that she's so much better than ever before. He supposes that's why he's afraid. As wonderful as it is by Elle Wood's side, to hold her close and tell her all the ways he loves her, and as much as he'd like for what they have, this soft and loving thing he can't put a name to yet, to last forever, it can't. She still has so much more to do, so much more to grow; he remembers sitting in libraries and coffee shops listening to her talk about everything he ever wanted to know about animal rights (an intense passion of hers, he's learned), so he wouldn't be surprised if she planned on becoming the first female president.

He wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to do that without him.

That's where doubt latches onto his ribs, pressing down on his lungs and he breathes sharply through his nose to keep from falling into a panic. He would work to keep this, to keep finding his sweatshirts in the wash though he couldn't recall ever wearing them, to keep waking up to the smell of vanilla next to him, to keep feeling bubblegum lips against his as they both smile like the whole world is just the two of them. But if the time ever came, if she had to break it to him someday, he'd-

He didn't know what he'd do. His heart would shatter into pinprick pieces and lodge in his lungs and he wouldn't be able to breathe-

He'd likely never fall in love again. He'd let her go. Afterwards... he didn't know that either. In retrospect, he's nothing compared to other guys, men who could give her the world on a pedestal. Now it's not like Elle to be viciously ambitious; she was immune to the savage shark indoctrination of a certain ex-professor, but she's not complacent. When she wants something, she'll get it. So what's stopping her from wanting something better, someone better?

What if she was already planning on it? What if, over a candlelit dinner? She'd improvise in the kitchen with too much wine in their systems so they wouldn't think about how she has to arrive early to the firm tomorrow and how he has an employer to appease, she delivers the killing blow after leading into it even though it had nothing to do with their previous conversation and it breaks his heart and he wouldn't recognize it until he's stared at the sad look on her face and he's confused until he's not and he's so stupid for not having realized earlier.

Or maybe not. Too much like Warner.

What if it's fast, sharp, the words sudden as each syllable guts him slowly? It would happen over a cheesy romcom that they rented with popcorn shared between them, and she'd drop the words near the end of the second act when the main couple has their falling out, unintentionally creating a symbolic parallel without a happy ending, and the rest of the movie would be bitter and silent.

Okay. At this point, admittedly, he was projecting. Other girls, other girlfriends, can't be compared to Elle Woods. She's unique and new and strange, an outlier, someone he wouldn't have met under normal circumstances. Live would be abysmal without her. But he's not the reason she's still here.

He can't be.

He's been staring at the ceiling for well over an hour, and Elle hadn't stirred. She's always been a heavy sleeper. Emmett couldn't see her face but judging by her posture she is sleeping soundly. Slowly he turns on his side to face her, softly wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. He's still thinking. He'll never be perfect for her, that's obvious, and she deserves perfection. If she one day doesn't love him, then she doesn't. If he fails her, all the more reason for her to want someone else. He holds her close, breathing in vanilla, sugar, and a light touch of something that can only be described as Elle. He falls asleep holding onto her, and when he wakes up later to her beautiful face smiling at him of all people, he almost forgets the doubts in his head for one loving sunrise.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp.... that's that.


End file.
